Reluctantly, he brought his attention back to Ian after his wife had shut the door firmly behind her. “Find Lyssa, Campion, and see that whoever helped her pays.”
“I’m no murderer,” Ian said quietly.
Harrell’s gaze hardened with undisguised irritation. He looked to Parker who kept his expression carefully neutral. A muscle worked in Harrell’s jaw, and then he said to Ian, “I don’t want a murder. Retribution, yes. But I’ve no desire to see a hangman’s noose. Right, Parker?”
“As you say, sir.”
“We’ve heard you are the man for such a job,” Harrell said. “And I believe you are. You are no one’s fool, and you handle yourself well. Lyssa’s maid will travel with you. Proprieties must be observed.”
Now Ian understood why Harrell clung to the notion his daughter had been taken against her will. He was a socially ambitious man, not only for himself but his children. Societycould be harsh on runaway young women, especially heiresses with common backgrounds. Still a maid was an encumbrance. “A maid will slow down my hunt. And I have no idea where I will be forced to go to learn your daughter’s whereabouts.”
“Her reputation must be protected at all costs,” Harrell answered. “She is to be a viscountess. I’m certain viscount Grossett will wish her reputation to be unsullied.”
Ian was equally certain the viscount would have taken Harrell’s daughter in marriage if she’d been a one-eyed hag with no teeth—but thought it best not to say such to her father.
His opinion was confirmed when Harrell added, “At Viscount Grossett’s suggestion, we’ve put out the word that Lyssa is visiting my wife’s uncle who is the ambassador to Rome. That buys us some time but not much. Bring her home quickly. I wish to see her married before her brother is born.”
Looking down at the miniature in his hand, Ian decided finding one missing lass should not be difficult. Especially with hair like hers. He could see a hint of her father’s tenacity in the determined set of her chin and the sparkle of intelligence in her eyes.
He prayed she was safe and had not been harmed.
This was one job he would like doing. “My price is two hundred pounds.” The amount sounded astronomical to Ian. He was surprised he could dare to ask it.
Harrell didn’t blink. “Done.”
Immediately, Ian wished he’d asked for more—but the lawyer in him knew it was too late. “I need funds in advance.”
“Fifty pounds and the balance on your return.”
“One hundred.”
“Seventy-five.”
Ian thought it odd a father so anxious for the return of his daughter, a man who had all the money he could need would barter…but then, that seemed to be the way of the very rich.
Mentally figuring the expenses he would need to move his family temporarily out of the Holy Land’s squalor, he agreed, “Seventy-five and two horses.”
“What? And that is to include no murder?” Harrell said, and then quickly waved his hand. “I’m jesting. Seventy-five and cattle it is. Parker, pay him and make the arrangements for the horses and the maid. Start your search immediately, Campion. Too much time has passed already.”
“If she has not met foul play, sir,” Ian reminded him gently.
Her father shook his head, his expression fierce. “I am like my wife. I believe she is alive and well. If not, I would know it.”
Ian prayed he was right. “I shall find her.”
“I know you will,” Harrell agreed bluntly. “Because you are a man who wants money.”
He was right.
Not only that, but this would be easy money. After all, how hard could it be to track down one romantic-minded heiress lugging a load of books?
Not hard at all.
Chapter Two
Six days later
RUNNINGaway was the best, most adventuresome idea Lyssa Harrell had ever had, and she was enjoying herself immensely.
